It was a beautiful weekend here in The City.
I used to object noisily to how people would call New York 'The City', as if it were the only city worth talking about. But after more than ten years here, I've given in. It's nothing personal, it's just that 'The City' is our shorthand way of talking about this place, and the name reflects our sense of pride.
This weekend was one of those times when I sighed and said out loud, 'What a great day to be a tourist'. It's nothing personal against tourists. There are plenty of days when I sigh and say 'What a terrible day to be a tourist'. Actually, it's often a terrible tourist day - too hot, too humid, too stinky, too wet, too cold, too rainy, too miserable.
This weekend, too, I considered going into the office, for a nano-second. I had tons of work, a packed schedule, and the office key. The one thing I didn't have was gumption. I couldn't muster up the energy to hustle in and slave away as I usually do.
And so Mark and I drove in on Sunday and behaved like tourists - we walked around the East Village, hand in hand. We had a big lunch at an Indian place on Sixth Street. We took pictures. We shopped. And we enjoyed The City on one of the very few great tourist days there are each year.
Photo by myself, along the Manhattan Bridge. The Brooklyn Bridge is in the background.